Library OF CONGRESS. I 



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BY 

MI^RI^ J. BISHOF, 

AUTHOR OF "thoughts IN A SICK CHAMBEK," "WORDS TO THE 

MARINER," "letters TO A GOD-SON," "THE WOODLAND 

WALK," " HOURS WITH THE LONELY." 







BOSTON; ^ 

PUBLISHED BY B. B. KUSSELL, 

55 CORNHILL. 



T5 /o^^ . 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, 

BY MARIA J. BISHOP, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Dear Madam: — 

Will you permit me to associate yoiar honored name with 
this trifling effort V feeling that whatever maybe its reception 
by others, or its own deficiency, in your regard, it will meet 
with the kind conctruction Avith which you have ever dis- 
tinguished its author. 

Please accept it as a slight token of the sincere regard and 
deep respect with which I have the honor to be, Madam, 
Yours gratefully, 

M. J. B. 



doK'i'^K'i'.^ 



The l!^ATiviTY, ---------7 

The Sea-shell, ---------9 

The MI^^STEY of the Suffeeixg, - - - - - 11 

The Attack, -----____ 13 

The Death of the First-bokn, ----- 20 

E2fDUKANCE, --__----_ 23 

The Use of Talents, -------26 

Anchored, ----------30 

Cultivation of the Intellect, ----- 32 

Alone, ----_-_--_ 37 

The Prize, --_--. ---38 

The Ruins of Pompeii. -------45 

Energy, ----------47 

Equality, ----------49 

Christmas, ---------52 

The Value of Time, -------54 

In Memoriam. ---------58 

Eetirement Fayor^vble to Moral Excellence, - - 59 
Galilee, ----------63 




0jifiti! di^oU®^. 



THE NATIVITY 



'Tis midnight, and Judea's hills in placid beauty lay- 
As folds its wings o'er Palestine, the soften'd, silver ray. 
And sweet Siloa's murmur, like a harp of liquid tone, « 

Rings on the heart its melody, in music faint alone, 
And rushing Cedron, o'er its bed, seeks Jordan's peaceful 

wave, 
And onward sweeps by Olivet, by king's* and prophet's 

grave. 
Judea's hills are glistening 'neath the pearly dews of 

night, 
.And on the whispering breezes, the palm-plumes quiver 

light; 
O'er pastures, which the Psalmist praised, where stillest 

waters flow 
The snowy flock reposes, and the shepherd wanders slow, 

7 



8 SUITSET CLOUDS. 

While through the arched heavens, one bright transcen- 
dent gem, 
Floats on, on light's own pinion, to the walls of Bethle- 
hem. 
A kingly train is moving across the desert far, 
And brows where gleam the diadem are raised towards 

that star : 
All, all is stillest silence, save the golden bridle's ring, 
As o'er three princely forms unfold the banners of a king; 
They come from distant Ararat, for prophecy has told, 
A mighty one has risen, which nations shall behold. 
Now bearing regal tribute, o'er distant deserts far 
They hail with adoration, blest Jacob's silver star: 
And now, an orb of living light, it burns in splendor, 

where 
The mangers of a stable rude, a helpless infant, bear; 
And now before that fragile form, bend low in homage 

there. 
The wise, the mighty ones of earth, and pour the suppli- 
ant prayer. 
Through hidings of deep poverty, the eastern pilgrims see 
The Godhead Bursting through its folds in bright Divin- 
ity, 
As Judah's king their tribute gold, they lavish at his feetj 
As Judah's God, their costly myrrh from India's thickets 

sweet. 
For Israel's King is God alone, the Lord of earth and 

heaven, 
And to his holy name, the sacred frankincense is given — 
O Great Redeemer ! we with them, in adoration lay 



THE SEA-SHELL. \) 

Before thy throne, the purest gold that love and faith can 

pay, 
With myrrh of fervent praises, we thy holy name embalm. 
While prayer, as sacred incense, shall thine earthly altars 

warm; 
And while we seek thy dwelling, we feel that love's bright 

star 
Which guides us through hfe's pilgrimage, is stationary 

there ; 
While Angel-harps are ringing the house of thine abode 
Good will and peace "to sinful man," ''All glory be to 

God." 



THE SEA-SHELL. 

Come trace awhile the sounding shore, 

Where foot hath seldom trod. 

And through the flashing surf explore. 

The footsteps «of a God. 

Here, whirlwinds swell their sullen breath, 

And lightning lances play. 

While tempest speak the mandate, " Death, 

Or silenced, sink away. 

How calmly grand the evening sky. 

Where sunset's banner fell. 

Yet all its purple pageantry. 

Is burnished on this shell. 

Some watch the tide of living gold, 
Wafting the glory higher. 



10 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

While to their minds the clouds unrolled 

Are sentences of fire. 

To them the stars are eloquent, 

That thread the milky way, 

And forest, lake, and mountain rend, 

Like Memnon's statue play. 

But softer tones across the sea 

And liquid murmurs swell, 

Dying away in melody 

Within this sea- washed shell. 

It tells us of that mighty Hand 

That hollowed out the deep, 

Chaining with links of silver sand 

The billows headlong leap. 

The citron grove and orange bower 

Exhausted not his skill ; 

Not cedar bough or queenly flower. 

Their Makers praise fulfill. 

He bade the roaring, surging sea, 

Sound soft as Sabbath bell*, 

Dying away in melody, 

Within this sea-washed shell. 

Seraphs may gaze in wondering love 
Upon the dome of heaven. 
While to the beaming eyes above 
Are untold beauties given ; 
Audi to our eyes how fair ascends - 
Mount Blanca's brow of snow. 
While morn, in golden veil attends 
The Alpine pageants glow ; 



THE I^niSnSTEY OF THE SUFFERING. 11 

Touches of matchless heAutj hide 
In many a sylvan dell, 
Less fair than white waves that glide 
Around this silver shell. 



THE MINISTRY OF THE SUFFERING. 

1 



^npJHEEE are various powers — mighty tal- 



ents, loaned to mortals to work for 
Heaven, withall, in this poor world of ours. 
Each moving in its own orbit of usefulness 
or beauty, accomplishing its own peculiar 
ministry. 

Yet perchance among the many man- 
sions of moral grandeur reared for the human 
heart, there is not one which rears prouder 
towers than that filled by patient, submissive 
suffering. 

The mind has its triumphs and wide is the 
sphere of its influence. Learning, power, 
beauty — all have their appointed work, yet 
they are not armed with the might — they 
wear not the diadem of glory which God hath 
bound about the brow of suffering. 



12 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

We speak of misery with pity ; we would 
alleviate trial and symphathize with affliction ; 
yet, has Heaven laid all good on one side, all 
evil on the other? Not so. The sufferer 
treads a higher range than we, breathes a 
purer atmosphere and is conversant with the 
loftiest style of human thought. 

True, the tearful eye, pale cheek and bowed 
form may seem to speak alone of weakness, 
decay and death, but look longer into the 
depths of those calm eyes — read you not 
there syllables higher than earthly language ? 
gleams there not lights of strong truth, deep 
conviction and unearthly energy from the 
depths of that troubled spirit ? More than 
this, far back of the trial, half-conscious to the 
sufferer, glow the rich beams of a peace the 
world knows not of, like the sunset hiding 
behind the storm. 

How often, in the presence of some meek 
sufferer we feel a subduing awe, an atmos- 
phere of moral grandeur. The world is de- 
lusive — all is real here ; the world is vain 
and foolish; here is a wisdom breathed by 



THE ATTACK. 13 

Omnipotence : " The golden sceptre of Heav- 
en has touched this heart before us, and all 
bow down in this inner court of human sym- 
pathy." 



THE ATTACK. 

J,isr the confines of Dalmatia, lived, at the 
' time our story commences, in an old, 

time-blackened cottage, the widow of a sol- 
dier, whose sole wealth consisted of her fair- 
haired child, the beautiful Hertha Wallen- 
stein. 

Arnold Wallenstein had been a brave man, 
and served his country well in the wars which 
the ambitious Frederick was ever waging ; 
and when, at fifty, death found him on the 
battfe-field, his piety, and a small, very small 
pension, became the heritage of the gentle 
pair, who still lived on in the half ruinous 
cottage, whose mouldering rafters drooped to 
the little garden, from which Hertha contrived 
to procure rose-leaves enough to exchange for 



14 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

that luxury, a little tea, wherewith to cheer 
the desponding hours of her mother. 

On the evening when our story opens, the 
early twilight and drifting snowflakes had 
compelled Hertha to lay aside her needle 
earlier than usual. 

The small table was neatly set forth before 
a cheerful fire, which glanced on the white 
forehead of Hertha as she moved with grace- 
ful activity about the apartment, while the 
eye of the widow was occasionally lifted from 
the Bible which rested on her lap, following, 
with a glance of love, the light, flitting form. 

" I have a strange, dreary feeling to-night, 
mother dear," she said, " a sadness, almost 
terror, seems to beset me." 

" Thou art lonely, my love," said the wid- 
ow. " These sombre woods, and wild wastes 
of snow are little calculated to cheer a heart 
young as thine." 

" Hark, mother, was not that a distant 
horn? " as she flung the hair from her temple, 
and paused to listen. 

" Thou art listening, dear, for Walter. He 



THE ATTACK. 15 

will not be here to-night, for see, how the 
storm gathers. The very kitty wakes are fly- 
ing to shelter, and that betokens rough 
weather." 

At the name of her lover, Hertha's cheek 
deepened its color, and she turned again to 
her household duties. In a moment she 
started. 

" Surely, mother, there are strange sounds 
in the distance. Thine ear is dull, but mine 
heard something then like a human cry of 
pain." 

They were interrupted by the entrance of 
a young man. His face was flushed and his 
whole manner was excited, while his fine fea- 
tures worked with emotion. 

" I come," he said, " to place you in safe- 
ty," turning to the widow, " Hertha, you 
must fly, I scarce know whither. The Cos- 
sacks have attacked the village, at the foot 
of the pass, and their ruthless cruelty spares 
neither sex nor age. We have not one mo- 
ment to lose. They will be here in half an 
hour. 



16 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

As he spoke, he was busy undoing from its 
place on the wall, where it had been sus- 
pended since the death of its owner, the 
short carbine which had once made terrible 
havoc in these same Cossack ranks. 

The widow, whose cheek had blanched at 
his tidings, arose calmly, and laid her hand 
upon his arm. 

" Walter," she said, the sweet voice scarce- 
ly broke, " leave that weapon. Our trust 
must not be in earth-steel. A higher arm 
than thine must defend us. Stop, my son ! '' 
for still the young man pulled at the thongs 
that bound it. 

" Mother," he said, " this is madness. I 
outsped the chamois to secure your safety, 
leaving bow and buckler behind. The age 
of miracles is past ! I must have this to de- 
fend Hertha, if I must not use it for you." 

" Walter," she replied, '' I do not quit this 
cottage ; neither shall Hertha. Heaven can 
protect us here. To fly is but to meet those 
brutes the sooner." 

"Mother, you are wild! Fly, fly to the 



THE ATTACK. IT 

forest, while life may yet be saved," he said. 
A wild, piercing shriek of agony, mingled 
with yells, which sounded like those of wild 
beasts, came distinctly born on the breeze. 

Hertha sank, almost fainting, by the side 
of the widow, whose bloodless cheeks con- 
fessed her fears. 

"Not yet, unto martyrdom," she said, as 
she took the sacred volume. 

"You hear!" 

The words were groaned out between the 
closed teeth of Walter, as the terrible cries 
came appallingly near. 

" It is now too late ! " and he threw him- 
self on a settle, burying his face in his hands. 
" My Hertha, my Hertha ! how can I yield 
thy life to yonder wolves ? " he groaned. 

Louder and louder rose the cries, while 
mother and daughter, their arms wound 
around each other, sat pale as marble stat- 
ues. 

All was silent in the cottage save the oc- 
casional murmured prayer of the widow, 
while the ticking clock marked the minutes, 
that seemed hours. 



18 THE ATTACK. 

" Those cries are becoming distant," and 
Walter raised his head from the attitude of 
despair into which he had fallen. " Can it 
be possible that, slaked with blood, they 
have left the village ? " 

" Said I not that Heaven would defend 
us ? " replied the matron. 

Through the long night they sat, and 
when, at length, the hour told of daylight, 
still all was darkness. 

Impatient of captivity, Walter opened cau- 
tiously the barred door. A wall of snow 
fenced the humble entrance, which had ef- 
fectually blotted out the existence of the 
cottage to those without. 

"You were right, mother," he said, "a 
better defence than the rusty carbine has 
shielded your head." 

It was some hours before he could make 
his way through the marble drift, and when, 
at length, he struggled down the path, he 
was soon met by a detachment of Prussian 
soldiers, whose uniform of green was fair to 
him as the wings of angels. 



THE ATTACK. 19 

Arrived at the village, whose beauty had 
long lured the summer traveller, blackened 
walls, and blood-stained ruins told its terrible 
fate. The stiffened forms of its late inhab- 
itants lay here and there ; the girl clinging 
in death to the white haired sire. Not a 
single house was spared. Even over the 
frozen brook the trampled snow was mingled 
with a crimson stain, while the few modest 
ornaments that decked the dwelling of the 
pastor, were strewn in mocker}^ among the 
smoking ruins. 

It was long ere Widow Wallenstein could 
leave her dwelling, now guarded by the im- 
perial troops ; and when, at last, she passed 
in her way to greater security, the home of 
her youth, she raised her eyes, devoutly say- 
ing, 

" The Lord is a defence." 



20 SUNSET CLOUDS. 



THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 

Around the towers of Thebes the night has drooped her 

sable wing, 
Canopied with darkness, fold the pillow of a king. 
That day, in anger fierce, he bade the prophets of the 

Lord, 
No more, in Heliopolis, to list a monarch's word. 
Death is their doom — if they shall dare again to seek 

bis face ; 
Death is the doom ! the angels now have sealed the day 

of grace. 
•Tis midnight — and on rapid wing the angel herald flies — 
In lowly tent and palace hall the best beloved dies. 
Li peaceful Goshen's balmy vales he sheathes his flaming 

sword, 
For door and lintel, crimsoned there, are guarded by his 

God. 
The angel stoops to listen to the Hallel's holy strain. 
That prays he may pass over, where the chosen lamb is 

slain. 
He spreads his mighty pinions — each mother clasps her 

son. 
As passing over Israel, he wings to splendid On. 
Here, bloodless, stands the portal-arch ; the angel enters 

there — 



THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 21 

A queenly mother starts from sleep, and tears her raven 

hair ; 
From Pharaoh's brow, the haughty frown in sorrow wild 

has fled, 
For Egypt's pride, his princely boy, his eldest-born, is 

dead ! 
Through Egypt's realm a cry ascends, — the beautiful are 

gone. 
And infants fair from many a mother's bleeding heart are 

torn ! 
The warder at the palace gates, bows low his plumed 

head, 
As by him swift, on mission wing, the herald angel sped. 
The slaves to her bare bosom clasps her bright and beau- 
teous boy. 
His fainting head she strives to stay, — he was her sunset 

joy; 

And priestly forms in agony bend o'er the young and fair, 
And wildly cry to Egypt's gods their best beloved to 

spare, 
While blood-stained robe, and magic ring, and severed 

locks declare 
How more than unavaihng they deem their anguished 

prayer. 
On, speeds the mighty vengeance! the murmured wail 

ascends 
As o'er a slaughtered little one each dark-browed mother 

bends. 
Even in the green pastures sinks down the snowy lamb, 
And sobs in dying agony beside its meek-eyed dam. 



22 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

The sun on rebel Egypt in morning splendor broke, 

But many a long-laslied lid, its beams no more to gladness 
woke. 

Bearing the loved ones of the heart move many a mourn- 
ing train 

On to the Nile's still waters, across the burning plain ; 

And as the bright and flashing waves the youthful corpses 
bear — 

The slaughtered infants of the Nile seem hovering in the 
air: 

And Pharaoh, who to Cheop's pile his best beloved hath 
given. 

Must in the wave its diadem soon render back to heaven. 

From heaven rings — as thou hast done, it shall be done 
to thee — 

As the last plumed helmet sinks beneath the gurgling sea. 




ENDURANCE. 23 



ENDURANCE. 

fjHE quality of meeting, with settled calm- 
, ness and fortitude, the difficulties and 

trials of life, is, perhaps, as rare as it is valu- 
able. Life is a checkered scene, and it has 
many sweet oases scattered along its path ; 
there are likewise narrow defiles, sharp rocks, 
and steep precipices, to scale which, requires 
a steady eye and intrepid heart. 

Those periods of existence which are un- 
marked by difficulty, are passed over quickly, 
or rather, glide by us with an imperceptible 
tread ; while the emergency which is the 
real, as well as the severest test of character, 
is sure to come, presenting obstacles and in- 
citing to efforts which only the heart nerved 
to endurance can meet with composure. 

We speak of the great. Who are they ? 
The benefactors of mankind, who have stood 
foremost in life's battle, are undoubtedly en- 



24 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

titled to the name ; yet there are a host of 
nameless heroes, who, perchance, in the eye 
of Heaven, are crowned with chaplets greener 
than they; those who have met difficulties, 
fears, discouragements, and day after day 
grappled with, silently endured and overcame 
them. 

There is something morally sublime in the 
spectacle of a brave heart, encompassed by a 
sea of trials, yet relying upon Heaven and 
its own nobleness, bearing calmly ; and it 
presents a clue to what we call the dark deal- 
ings of Providence, that its sternest disci- 
pline is often reserved for those whose pa- 
tience is most proof. Many a character 
which would have remained unknown, has 
by this means been presented as a shining 
light before the eyes of others, or rather, has 
been formed — cut as the diamond stone, 
from the quarries of its darkened nature, by 
sharp touches of adversity. 

This valuable trait of character, far from 
being formed, as many suppose, by the pres- 
sure of great calamities, is nourished an«1 



ENDURAJSrCE. 25 

supported by the recurrence of those daily 
and petty trials which are more or less the 
lot of all. The meek bearing of an injury, 
the support of some lonely trial, form the 
pedestal which upholds the " column of true 
majesty " in our nature. 

Vain would it be to secure for the young 
the most affluent gifts of fortune, the rarest 
endowments of education, or hosts of friends, 
while they are strangers to this element of 
character ; none can help us, as we can help 
ourselves, and the heart which ever leans on 
others for support and comfort, has but a 
miserable chance of happiness or usefulness. 
Teach the young the mighty lesson to bear, 
and thereby they are instructed to do ; and 
when the day of trial comes, a firm hand is 
laid upon the helm, and a patient spirit looks 
up to Heaven for deliverance. 

This virtue formed a mighty element of 
character in the lives of Franklin, Howard, 
and all who have laid a giant hand on the 
difficulties " of life. Much of life may pass 
as a calm, summer day ; but the wise mariner 



26 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

puts out to sea with chart and compass, as 
well as with sail spread to the favoring 
breeze ; and by constant sounding, searches 
for the hidden rock. And thus, while the 
sunshine of prosperity gilds the surface of 
character, it is the storm alone which tests 
its real strength, conducing most to the per- 
manent good of man, and the glory of God, 



THE USE OF TALENTS. 

'AS the reader reflected, that the Lord 
ij gave to each servant, at least, one 



precious gift — one talent. Has it occurred 
to him that of all the many million servants, 
there is not one that has not some treasure 
wherewith he may traffic for Heaven ? 

The knowledge of the fact of having re- 
ceived a talent, adds greatly to the power of 
rightly improving it ; the feeling of having 
received a trust, in every honorable mind 
awakes integrity, decision, effort ; and this 



THE USE OF TALENTS. 27 

truth, received into the mind and retained 
there, that some gift is lodged in every 
bosoin, some power in every soul, would 
nerve to exertions and animate to success, 
of which one might think themselves in- 
capable. 

The thought that an achievement is possi- 
ble, produces the effect of which it. is the 
cause; the conviction that we have the 
means within our reach of attaining an 
object, leads to ultimate success. 

This conviction ploughed for Columbus a 
path across the deep, and landed him in the 
wished-for haven ; this has brought forms of 
life-like beauty from the cold marble ; has 
caused visions of transcendant loveliness to 
float across the canvas, and inanimate nature, 
moulded by the thought that a gift was be- 
stowed, has leaped into creations of con- 
summate perfection. 

The belief that each is the recipient of 
some great and beautiful gift ; some talent 
for which account must be rendered, would 
lead to much wisdom in the choice of pro- 



28 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

fessions for the young, and to much economy 
in the use of time. The mind readily grasps 
that for which it is fitted by nature ; the 
knowledge of it is easily acquired, and its 
practice yields continual pleasure ; whereas 
the faculties, in a direction to which they are 
forced, are dull and heavy, and life passes 
constant constraint and discontent. 

Let every parent consider that his child 
has a talent for music, for painting, for 
architecture, or for domestic economy ; and 
against their will, let the world lose a work- 
ing hand, and gain a working mind, or spoil 
a fine lady in making a useful woman. 

The knowledge that God has bestowed 
upon every human mind a peculiar adapta- 
tion to some particular subject ; powers and 
faculties fitted in a high degree for some con- 
genial object, will, of itself, carry the soul a 
flight above others in the pursuit of it. 

That which is regarded as the " ten talents 
of genius," is often little more than one 
moderate talent improved by industry; 
winged by love of its labor, urged on little 



THE USE OF TALENTS. 29 

by little, it makes .its way, it gains on its 
course, and is continually rewarded by added 
gifts and opportunities of usefulness. 

This one talent often lies by in indolence, 
and buried deep under a weight of earthly 
cares, which would disappear, were it but 
used. 

Draw but the hidden treasure from its 
envelope. Ask yourself the question : '' For 
what has Providence peculiarly fitted me ? " 
And then give yourself to the work with 
your whole energy, and give not over the 
pursuit of some worthy object, by means of 
those powers which you, and perhaps none 
so well as you possess. 

But this subject also includes opportuni- 
ties as well as gifts of intellect or heart. 
God, who gives the mental talent, gives also 
opportunities for its development ; and it is 
interesting, in this connection, to watch life 
and perceive how the shepherd, by gathering 
pebbles from the brook of Bethlelem, and 
hurling them successfully against the lion 
which attacks him, is thus taught by his 



30 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

God to defend his people ; and how Luther, 
the poor monk, whose efforts are humbly 
given to dust and to arrauge a library, finds 
arguments on its shelves for a reformation. 

Thus it will ever be that He, who bestows 
the gift, will make a way in which we may 
traffic with the same ; happy they who appre- 
ciate the gift and seize the opportunity for its 
use ; to such, shall, indeed be added, '' the 
plume to the wing, the gem to the crown, 
the city to the sceptre I " 



ANCHORED. 

You say that it is not able, 
Faith, in the surges of life, 

To hold, like a gallant cable, 
In the billows' angry strife. 

You say, when the winds are sleeping, 
And the glassy wave is still, 

The heart may trust to its keeping. 
But not in the days of ill ; — 

That when the surges dashing. 
Roll the angry waves around, 



ANCHOEED. 31 

Faith parts its cable, crashing, 
The wreck is fast aground. 

You say, but after the shipwreck, 

What help in the iron thews ? 
Still true to the broken hawser, 

Deep down ' mid the sea-weed and ooze. 

There are who have known while the breaker 

Was washing the deck amain, 
The hand of the mighty Maker 

Was grasping the broken chain. 

Though plank from plank was riven. 
And the mast had crashed o'er the side. 

The anchor was moored in heaven. 
And the wreck must stem the tide. 

Is it better ? one spar of memory 

To the billow-beaten crew, 
Than the cheer of the heavenly life-boat, 

" Fear not, I will bear you through ! " 

The promise that rings to landward. 

Through all this darkness a-nd pain ; 
The narrow ridge in the graveyard, 

Blooming, shall open again ; — 

And yours, to be parted never, 

With its beauty of deathless hair. 
By your side to move forever, — 

An angel head bends there. 



SUNSET CLOUDS. 

Death is the foam of the billow. 

Death is the roar of the tide ; 
Faith sweeps like a bending willow, 

Fast moored to the other side. 

Think not thy cable parted, 

See it flash through the broken spray ; 
Each plank in the ship, though started, 

Shall ride in the golden bay. 

And there, with a joyous greeting, 
Is the beautiful, deathless brow, 

At rest, while the storm you where beating,- 
That sleeps in the distance now. 



CULTIVATION OF THE INTELLECT. 



^Y the cultivation of the intellect, is not 
^■^ intended those artificial refinements of 
society, and elaborate accomplishments which 
are witiiin the reach of but comparatively- 
few, but rather those solid foundations of 
useful knowledge and that enlightened mind 
which are equally desirable, as they are with- 
in the reach of all. 

But particularly is it desirable that the fe- 



CULTIVATION OF THE INTELLECT. 33 

male heart, enlarged by charity, should be 
directed by an intelligent and active mind — 
a mind accustomed to enlarged and just 
modes of thinking ; capable of directing the 
young and the ignorant with whom her posi- 
tion throws her in contact. 

Unconnected with a sound judgment, a 
sensibility so tremblingly alive that it renders 
itself and all around it uncomfortable — 
much more an effected love of the beautiful, 
are sure to tire and render home, which 
should be the centre of earthly interest, dull 
and unattractive ; and yet how few females 
are there, comparatively, whose minds are 
equal to draw a deduction or to carry on an 
argument on the high and sublime truths 
with which, as rational beings, they . are 
connected. 

There are those so unhappily mistaken as 
to suppose that a cultivated understanding is 
unnecessary for a woman, at least, that it di- 
minishes in some degree that humility and 
modesty which are her 'chief charms. Is 
then, the Moslem right ? and should all which 



34 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

is lofty and ennobling be confined to those 
who least need it ? No ! mind was given to 
woman, and with the responsibility and duty 
of cultivating it ; to woman is committed in 
a good degree the moral government of the 
world, and therefore a high order of attain- 
ment should mark that being who has its 
moral moulding. 

The next point for consideration is what 
studies — what pursuits are the easiest, the 
surest and the most general means towards 
the attainment of an end so desirable. 

Without pausing to rest the argument 
upon the study of the sciences or a general 
acquaintance with belles-letters, which, un- 
questionably are as important for females, or 
nearly so, as for the other sex, we should 
hasten to enter a field with which the villa- 
ger and the princes are alike surrounded ; to 
pierce a mine, whose flashing glories gem, 
alike, the brow of the humble and the high. 

The Volume of Inspiration spreads its 
transcendent page alike before the eyes of 
all, and we contend that the mind, set to 



CULTIVATION OF THE mTELLECT. 35 

grapple with its high and momentous truths, 
can never again be dwarfed to its former ig- 
norance ; take, for instance, the eternity of 
God, as the standard to which we would 
tower the intellect, and you extend it in the 
vain attempt to grasp the immensity of the 
thoug^ht. 

There is, also, another fact, connected with 
the study of Scripture, which renders it the 
fitting library of the young, as well as the 
exhaustless treasure of the aged ; it is the 
extreme beauty of its conceptions, united 
with the grandeur of its language ; let this 
stand as an example : " He that inhabiteth 
the praise of Israel ; " surely, any mind, alive, 
in the least, to the truly sublime and beauti- 
ful, cannot but muse in mute admiration at 
the figure, wdiich makes the lofty chants of 
adoration the holy pavilion of the Deity ; and 
we contend, that the thought which buds in 
the mind from such seed as this, must needs 
be inimitable and pure. 

It may seem trite and common-place advice 
to send all to the Bible, for is not the Bible 



36 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

in the hands of all ? yes, but how few study 
it ! Perused carelessly, it perhaps does little 
but add condemnation to the reader ; for it is 
irreverance to read it carelessly ; but deeply 
studied, it is a map of light, unfolding laby- 
rinths of length and glory far into the limit- 
less fields of eternity. Such effects will — 
must follow the study of the Word of God ; 
add to this an intelligent observation of the 
beauties of creation, and an awakened sensi- 
bility to all, the mind will take a wide range, 
and be tuned to a lofty key ; sources of re- 
fined pleasure will be opened to those who 
have received the benefit of educational cul- 
ture, and a world of satisfaction, pure and 
high, will open before the minds of all. 



ALONE. 37 



ALONE. 

Alone by the sea-shore, alone by the lake, 
Alone in the desert or African brake : 
By Thebe's ruined arches, or Babylon's stone, 
Where the slow floating eagle shrieks ever alone. 

There are sylvan retreats that the Hermit has sought, 
There are rocks where the chamois the hunter has taught, 
But earth holds no desolate corner apart 
So lonely, so sad as a desolate heart. 

Alone in the crowd, as the Jordan's blue wave 
Cuts the dark waters by it, but only to lave 
His waters alone to the far, distant sea, 
MingUng, yet separate — fettered, yet free. 

We may meet on the mountain, may meet in the glen, 
In the kindness, compassion and kindred of men : 
But where, in the world's crowded mart, shall we find 



There's a world all aglow with all beautiful thoughts, 
There feeling and memory and sympathy bright 
Cluster and linger and glitter, and seem 
Like the vistas of light in a glorious dream. 



0« SUNSET CLOUDS. 

And there, though in solitude, joyous we live 
In peace, that the Author of mercy can give, 
And joys, to the spirit full often atone — 
Who walks with his God can be never alone. 



THE PRIZE. 

The last canvass had separated the gentry 
of the neighborhood of Wildersly, and it 
was fast becoming a painful question by what 
means they should again be brought to a 
right feeling. At length the happy expedi- 
ent of an archery meeting was hit upon, and 
a committee appointed to confer upon the 
happy theme. Great was the joy of the 
stately mammas and bright-eyed daughters 
of Wildersly ; but as it was not to them, but 
to their grave papas, that the sage question 
was deferred, it progressed more slowly than 
the zealous wished. 

Subtle points came up to be disputed at 
the club dinner. First, who should be in- 
vited ; and as it was to be a thoroughly re- 



THE PEIZE. 39 

spectable affair, none but undoubted gentry- 
were to be admitted. Then the question 
came up among the squires, " What is a gen- 
tleman ? " 

Some one defines it one who has plenty of 
money. Another, '' He who has retired from 
business ten years." 

But as the first would admit Mr. Shorts, 
whom no one could endure, and the second 
would exclude General Vendables, who had 
never been in business, but who was univer- 
sally acknowledged as an undoubted gentle- 
man, the committee were thrown on their 
own resources. 

There were, moreover, sundry little hates ; 
bitter as those of Highlanders, and handed 
down with the faithfulness of the Capulets, 
to be tenderly dealt with. Among these pri- 
vate feuds were those of the Vendables and 
Browns, which had increased in the same 
ratio that the fine old trees of the Vendables 
had changed owners, passing into the hands 
of the more fortunate Mr. Brown, whose dis- 
play of mere wealth was a sharp thorn in 
the side of his aristocratic neighbor. 



40 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

At the time our story opens the old feud 
had descended, as a sort of heirloom, to Gen- 
eral Aubrey Vendables, who had just re- 
turned from foreign service on leave of 
absence. 

Great was the joy of Lucy, the sister of 
our hero, as the archery meeting drew nigh ; 
and loud was she in praises of her friend 
Emmeline Brown, as she strolled with her 
brother beneath the fine old oaks of the 
manse. 

" I cannot think," exclaimed Aubrey, on 
one of these occasions, " how it is these 
Browns have so risen in favor ? Pray, does 
Miss Emmeline inherit her father's want of 
beauty, or her mother's vulgarity ? " 

"You deserve not to be answered," re- 
plied Lucy, a tear trembling in her eye. 
" Emmeline is just a rosebud." 

" Of the cabbage species, I presume," re- 
plied the general. 

Lucy drew her arm from his, and for once 
was really provoked with her handsome 
brother. 



THE PRIZE. 41 

" Seriously, Lucy, tell me why it is that 
my mother and yourself are determiuecl so 
spitefully to like these Browns. I thought 
we had all agreed to hate them." 

" Yes, brother, but when papa died, there 
was that lawsuit. Mr. Brown dropped it at 
once." 

"Might be policy," was the curt reply. 

" Then the butler was dishonest, and Mr. 
Brown defended mamma's rights ; and when 
the man was condemned, at our entreaty, 
mitigated his sentence." 

" That showed him merciful," replied 
Aubrey. 

" Really, Aubrey, you are too bad ! Then 
mamma had the quinsy, and Mr. Brown 
mounted his fleetest horse, and went miles 
for the physician who saved her life." 

"lam vanquished — lean say no more," 

said the general. " But^ dear Lucy, do not 

press your sweet Emmeline upon my notice." 

Lucy blushed and was silent. 

* * * * * 

The morning of the archery meeting dawned 



42 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

beautifully, and at an early hour the grounds 
of Walton Hall were thronged with groups 
of the young people of the vicinity. Green 
and silver was the not unbecoming costume 
of the occasion ; and young girls in delicate 
fabrics, and their stately mothers in brocade 
and pearl jewelry, might be seen threading 
the avenues of the park. 

As Vendables greeted the lord of the 
manor, who was an old friend of his father, 
he was somewhat disturbed by a slap on the 
shoulder, and turning, beheld his old enemy, 
Mr. Brown. Constraining himself, he re- 
turned the rude shake of the hand, with 
mere cold politeness bowing to Mrs. Brown, 
who, in rouge and good humor, looked like a 
full-blown peony. At a little distance, as if 
retreating from notice, stood a beautiful girl. 
The soft brown hair thrown back from a 
faultless forehead, the blue e^^es veiled by 
their long lashes, and the sweet expression 
of the lips, betokened a heart kind and true. 
Her dress was of the palest shade of green 
silk, and silver acorns were woven as its 



THE PRIZE. 43 

finish. A garland of oak leaves was twisted 
in her hair, and at her side hung a small sil- 
ver quiver. Aubery colored as Lucy pre- 
sented him to her friend, and he soon re- 
turned to greet Mr. Brown more cordially. 

Among the competitors for the prize it was 
soon found none were to be named with 
Lucy and her friend ; and loud and long was 
the applause as the arrow of Emmeline 
struck that of Lucy within the ring. The 
prize was to be awarded after a slight colla- 
tion, and as competitors, Lucy and Emmeline 
alone remained. 

When all were again gathered on the 
green, Emmeline could not be found ; and 
Lucy, declaring that she would not take ad- 
vantage of this circumstance, wandered to 
the verge of the forest, where an artificial 
cascade flung its music on the air. Seated 
on the spreading root of an aged oak, she 
here found her friend, and the two, happy in 
each other's company, soon forgot their mock 
conflict. 

" O Lucy, you dear good girl ! How kind 



44 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

of you to send my dress ; and your felicitous 
taste is so cliarming. I have not yet ex- 
pressed the obligation I am under." 

" Not nearly as lovely as the roses you sent 
mother last spring, for which I leave Aubrey 
to thank you, as he is coming this way." 

" The bearer of good tidings, fair ladies," 
he said, turning in his hand a beautiful rich- 
ly-chased silver arrow, which he presented, 
with a bow, to Emmeline. 

" O no," she said, " Lucy was the success- 
ful candidate. I retired from the field." 

" Nevertheless, young lady, it has pleased 
the judges to award the first prize to you ; 
but as Lucy was second only to yourself, 
she also has an arrow." And he plunged a 
similar weapon through the golden locks of 
his sister. 

" Really, general, I cannot receive it," 
Emmeline replied. " It is not just." 

" Let your father settle the point," he re- 
plied. " I also shall claim a prize ! " and he 
drew her reluctant arm within his own. 
" Mr. Brown," he said, approaching the old 



THE EUINS OF POMPEn. 45 

gentleman, who, weary with the labors of 
the day, was sitting alone, " your daughter 
refuses the prize. "Will you bestow it upon 
me, but with it the hand that holds it ? " 

Mr. Brown looked from one to the other ; 
then, with a smile lighting his benevolent 
face, placed the hand of Emmeline in that 
of Vendables. 



THE RUINS OF POMPEII. 

Proud city of the dead ! thy shadowy glory 
Steals sadly from the past ; a spectral thing : 

Long had the sandal of the world pressed o'er thee, 
While calmly wrapped beneath obli\ion's wing — 

Lost to the rival legions o'er thy head, 

Rearing high arches o'er thy sleeping dead! 

Rising, at length, above the funeral pall, 
Speaking, in trumpet tones, ^^ Mortality ! " 

Telling the nations they shall likewise fall 
In all the purple of their majesty, 

And banners blazoned with imperial pride 

Flash and then sink beneath oblivion's tide. 



46 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

Here is the dint the gilded cliariot made, 
As, thundering o'er thy ways, tlie victor came ; 

And there tlie burden of tlie slave is laid, 
Who lived unknown, and found in death a name ; 

And there the mother who, in agony, 

Would clasp her children for eternity. 

Here stands the column speaking Caesar's pride, 
And there the dwelling of deep poverty ; 

The marble roof where Roman matron died, 
When dark and darker the Italian sky 

Frowned, while Jehovah, in a fiery car, 

Triumphed o'er Jove, and drove his demon crew afar. 

Mighty in wisdom, did thy Pliny stand. 
Watching the heayings of that blackened sea. 

Scorching and withering the vine-clad land, 
Bow his high head, and lay him down with thee. 

And o'er thy grave, his monumental name 

Erect, as funeral trophy to thy fame ? 

Amid thy columns grand, and broken arches, 
Flashes the splendor of a bygone age ; 

With sandalled tread the Roman legion marches, 
Where History unrolls her burning page. 

The classic toga and the glittering helm. 
Ages of ruin cannot yet o'erwhelm. 

The Dacian captive with his calm, pale face. 
His arm unbound to deal the deathly blow. 
Or Christian gladiator, wlio can trace. 



ENEEGY. 47 

Neither in savage nor in Greek a foe, 
Thy arena's blood-stained pavement meekly trod, 
Firm in the faith and calmly died for God. 

Dark mistress of the world! thy jewelled brow 

Still flashes its tiara worn and dim, 
And from its time-stained circlet, broken now, 

In martyr's blood its jewels seem to swim ; 
And as we muse thy strange stone tablet's o'er, 
Even pity bids thee sleep and wake no more. 



ENERGY. 

llpO no purpose are the highest talents be- 
wj stowed, if energy is wanted in the em- 
ployment of them. Energy is to the human 
mind, the same as the conducting belt is to 
machiner}^ ; it links the active power with 
the useful purpose, making the man mighty 
for good. 

If sloth a<nd inactivity are suffered to clog 
the spirits and benumb the understanding, 
it is in vain that the rarest opportunities 
combine with brightest intellectual graces, 
no fruit will ever be harvested — nay, no 



48 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

harvest of thought will ever adorn the bar- 
ren, useless life ; a mere mechanical move- 
ment in the round of duty ; doing, because 
compelled by necessity, is all which such a 
state of mind can produce. 

But let energy enter the heart and hand, 
and the pulses beat with a nobler bound ; life 
is beheld as a rare opportunity for doing 
good — acting for the future^ a golden field 
of unreaped purposes waving in the light of 
eternity. Duties are performed with alacrity ; 
difficulties are grappled with a master-spirit ; 
even positive misfortunes are borne with an 
easy cheerfulness. The heart is at ease, 
moulding circumstances which would crush 
others ; only enobled by those trials which 
are the appointed discipline and education of 
a mighty spirit. In meek dependence upon 
Providence the energetic spirit trusts ; in 
firm reliance on its own efforts it executes, 
and raises from the barren rock of Adversity 
a little garden of thoughts and purposes and 
noble deeds, all smiling under its life-giving 
power. 



equality! 49 

Energy has cut to the heart of the earth, 
and bound its ribs in its own diadem. 
Energy has united the earth, long divided for 
want of it, while continents arose at its bid- 
ding : it has trodden, as it were, the arches 
of Heaven, gazed down on the rainbow, 
counting its dyes ; chained the lightning to 
its car, and bade it go, its willing, speaking 
messenger ; but greater still — it has taught 
the tried heart to look up to the God who 
made it, and overcome the evils of this 
troublesome life. 



EQUALITY. 

fjHAT all are created free and equal is a 
, maxim rather expressed than felt, and 

while all concur in admiring the sentiment, 
almost all render it practically useless. 

Inherent nobility is the exploded error of 
the old world ; that the son should be great 
because his father was, has been too often 
contradicted by his being a fool. Some 



50 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

" Village Hampden," great in conscious right, 
meets the imbecile prince, curbs his tyrannic 
power, and wrests forever from him the 
argument that the mighty are great in virtue 
of their pedigree. 

While it is ordered ia the dispensation of 
Providence that some should rule and some 
should obey, it is equally manifested by those 
dispensations that '' righteousness exalteth 
a people," that " the diligent shall bear 
rule," but " the slothful shall be under 
tribute." 

In spite of the benign influence of repub- 
lican institutions, the diligent observer must 
perceive a growing degree of adultation paid 
to wealth and the trappings of success. 
" The poor man by his wisdom may deliver 
the city," yet it is counted genteel not to 
remember that same poor man. Merit in a 
chariot is heralded by public applause; but 
merit in a plain garb is hardly allowed foot- 
hold among the sternest difficulties of life. 

Now, in contradistinction to this, Provi- 
dence often parts the ranks of ostentatious 



EQUALITY. 51 

nothingness, to make a way to the front for 
the meek, the wise, and the good. Like a 
kind father, distributing justly to his chil- 
dren, Heaven has given to each some special 
gift. True, the gift may be unknown to the 
possessor, "wrapt in a napkin," or worse, 
misused ; but it is nevertheless a gift which, 
were it drawn forth and put to proper inter- 
est, would redound to the glory of the Giver, 
and the good of man. 

Viewed in this light, society presents a 
different surface from that which modern 
taste and modern manners has assigned. 
We feel the man is to be valued for what he 
is, not for what he possesses ; except as 
those possessions mark his industry, genius, 
or integrity. 

Virtue is the " image and superscription 
of Heaven," and when we honor it we honor 
God; but fortune is but the Caesar of this 
world, and we render it fitting homage when 
we treat it with indifference. 



52 SUNSET CLOUDS. 



CHRISTMAS. 

The Christmas chimes 

Of olden times, 
Through leafless branches sigh and quiver, 

And frost-work bright, 

And soft moonlight, 
A-down the forest arches shiver. 

The midnight sky- 
Is jewelled high, 
"Wearing a cornet of glory; 

While orbs of Are 

And angel's lyre. 
Bring forth to-night the Bethlehem story. 

The chancel wide 

Is wreathed in pride. 
And the dim aisles like pine groves whisper; 

While silvery note 

And anthems float 
Through the high dome like angels' vesper. 

And earth to-night 

Is fair and white. 
With fleecy bridal-veil adorning; 

Brake, bush and bower, 

Spire and tower. 
Waiting the flashing joy of morning. 



CEGRISTMAS. 63 

Ye bright orbs say 

Which is the ray 
That over Bethlehem burned in beauty; 

That o'er the plain 

Drew princely train, 
To own their king in lowly duty ? 

And did the moon 

At midnight's noon 
Look then as now, so calm and holy ? 

While angel's wing 

And welcoming, 
Soft sank beside the manger lowly. 

The same are they 

As bright to-day 
As when *' to us a Son was given ! " 

Be our refrain 

The angel strain — 
** Good will to man and peace from Heaven ; " 

Light the glad hearth, 

Through joyous earth. 
While merry Christmas bells are ringing; 

Spread high the feast 

Though poor the guest. 
For earth with angels now is singing 



V:^^^\^^'' 



64 SUNSET CLOUDS. 



THE VALUE OF TIME. 

^F all the possessions which man can call 
his own, none is so little estimated and 
so fleeting as time. As if to impress with 
more emphasis its great worth, one lonely 
moment is granted and no more, at once. 
However wisely persons may judge respect- 
ing the whole of life — whatever calculations 
they make for its improvement of the several 
parts of wliich life is made — all are inclined 
to be prodigal. Well has it been remarked 
by the philosopher: "That to many, time 
appears as a vast desert, with here and there 
an oasis scattered up and down, bearing no 
proportion to lonely wastes over which they 
must travel. Hence the inconsistency of 
wishing away days and weeks, that the de- 
sired situation may be gained. Vainly will 
any rightly estimate time, who are not care- 
ful of its hours and minutes. Those spare 



THE VALUE OP TIME. 55 

moments which are ever recurring in the 
midst of the most crowded occupations are 
often that upon which the moral of life turns. 
The habit of procrastination — of deferring 
to 'a more convenient, the duties and enter- 
prises of life — is one of the most mischiev- 
ous which can possess the mind. That period 
of settled leisure seldom or never arrives, 
and even if old age should offer such a calm, 
is its enfeebled powers, its gathering infirmi- 
ties, proper antecedents for any great work ? 
The heart that rightly values time, that 
daily considers for what purpose life is given, 
will devote it, as it passes, to the highest, 
noblest ends. Among its fitting employ- 
ments are the acquisition of knowledge and 
the pursuit of virtue ; aud by slow and 
almost imperceptible degrees, the traveller 
advances in both these paths. Each day 
some new truth added, some attainment 
made in excellence is the only way to make 
time the treasury which it is to every well- 
balanced mind. 

To have an end — a life-purpose high and 



56 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

holy, such as shall glorify God and benefit 
man, is an essential, almost a lonely element 
of happiness. To feel that the hours as they 
pass, are filled with worthy purposes, and 
hastening forward a desired end — is, of it- 
self, a world of pure joy. Virtue is not only 
its own reward ; but like a pure stream, it 
leaves beauty and prosperity in its path, and 
hours redeemed from the past, given to the 
excellent, have a powerful and fertilizing 
effect upon our future life. The restlessness 
of a heart forever seeking novelty, the de- 
sire of fame, and the thirst for fleeting 
pleasures, is checked in a mind which is ever 
at home in its duties, that sees hfe too, made 
of parts, and beholds in every opportunity, 
a fresh call to exertion. The hours never 
hang wearily upon their hands, who place 
upon this heavenly talent its fitting value. 
They prize them as the garner of future joy, 
the witnesses for or against them. To such, 
a day is a loan, to trade for heaven with ; in 
it they can, perhaps, bind up some bleeding 
heart, right some injustice, or further some 



THE VALUE OF TIME. 57 

worthy cause, and while the vain and idle 
complain of slow progress, they seize, im- 
prove, and multiply their hours. But in no 
season of life does this truth speak with a 
voice so eloquent as in youth. In youth the 
calls to duty are strongest, the encourage- 
ments to effort brightest ; and if youth is 
thus used as time that must be accounted 
for, the honors and influence of more ad- 
vanced life will be the natural results. 
Every season of life filled by its appointed 
duty, will leave the mind that true calm 
and leisure of soul in which alone is found 
real peace. 




68 SUNSET CLOUDS. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

All thy leaves of fading fern, 
Sleeping Poet deck thy um ! 
All thy brilliant, burning thought, 
To thy sepulchre are brought. 

Did thy Lord, in mercy free 
With ten talents dower thee 
Like a beacon's light to burn — 
Gentle, brilliant Fanny Fern ! 

Thine the glance — the Prophet's eye 
Moral, mental worth to spy; 
Thine the tongue, with Prophet's fire, 
Tuning words like well-strung lyre. 

Who, with radiant thoughts, like thee, 
With thy own wi},d witchery 
Could make beautiful and true 
Sparkle like the Summer dew? 

Through the land soft requiems sigh 
When its gifted daughters die ; 
When such minds as Parton's fail. 
Who shall wear the prophet-veil? 

Drinking at the foxmtain deep, 
With thy sister-poets sleep, 
While the fern leaves grow o'er thee, 
Carey and sweet Signoumey. 



MORAL EXCELLENCE. 59 

God, that sweeps the human soul, 
And the burning thoughts control, 
While He fills His shining choir. 
Still shall waken some SAveet lyre. 



RETIREMENT FAVORABLE TO 
MORAL EXCELLENCE. 

^N the crowded stage of the world — 
that area filled with the fleeting show 
of a vain and transitory life — how difficult, 
rather how impossible it is, to act np to the 
convictions of duty, or even to think with 
the independence of a rational being ! 

Bound by the seven-fold cord of worldli- 
ness, tied by the unseen bonds of custom, 
swayed by the hope of obtaining the suffrage 
of the multitude, the soul becomes a pliable 
and elastic thing, tamely delivering itself up 
to the reigning mode of thought or custom. 

While the world lieth in wickedness; 
while the fashion of it passeth away : while 
the prince of this world is not the prince of 



60 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

peace — so long will peace and piety be 
found in solitude. 

How many, who call themselves the ser- 
vants of Him who passed through this world 
only to endure its scoff and threat, are drawn 
from their steadfastness by becoming the 
votaries of a world which knows not their 
Lord? 

Yet they will say, " the world is Christian 
now. No heathen cruelty, no open idolatry 
now mars it. We do but walk with the 
multitude who keep holy day." Yes, the 
world now cries with ten thousand tongues, 
*■' Lord, Lord," yet what pride, what vanity, 
what selfishness will they be guilty of who 
follow the example of the so-called Christian 
world ? 

Some may say, does not the path of the 
Christian lay through the world ? Is he to 
adjure society and flee to the desert and em- 
ulate the life of the hermit and ascetic ? By 
no means. The Christian is to act his part 
in and profess his Master before the world. 
But it is to lead, not to follow. It is to 



MOEAL EXCELLENCE. 61 

tread its ways as He trod them — only in 
doing good ; it is to mingle among the crowd 
alone to bless them, and apart from its pur- 
poses, its fashion, its desires, to live lonely in 
the love of Jesus — singular in the service 
of God. 

While man is a social being, and as part 
of a community, has social duties devolving 
upon him, yet is he, in his personal accounta- 
bility, a solitary unit. Placed here for a 
little time, to prepare for an unending dura- 
tion, the whole current of his nature to stem 
and turn into another channel ; with graces 
to improve, to which he comes a stranger ; 
with propensities to repress, to which he is 
ever prone, it is his wisdom, it is his happi- 
ness, to disengage himself, as much as possi- 
ble, from the careless throng, and surround 
himself with a rampart of thought against 
the seductive encroachments of a fickle 
world. 

There is a nobleness of mind, an independ- 
ence of feeling about those who break away 
from its enchantments and who dare to walk 



62 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

in a path of their own, or rather of their 
Lord's choosing ; they live, or they may live, 
alone with God, conversant with His ways, 
enraptured with His works, skilled in His 
Providence. 

The world knows not the deep, pure joy 
of those who, withdrawn from the bustle and 
affectation of life, mount, with the angels of 
old, the ladder of God's goodness and look 
quite through the deeds of men. 

It is in loneliness and comparative seclusion 
that the sweetest foretastes of heaven, the 
harmony of Providence and the beauties of 
the natural world are most deeply felt — 
most dearly appreciated. Like the raven's 
visit to the brook Cherith, or the angel in the 
wilderness who comforted Elijah, many a 
message from God is sent to cheer the heart 
that is sequestered from the crowd. 



GALILEE. 63 



GALILEE. 

What holy thoughts flow o'er the soul — what memories cling to 

thee 
And ripple in thy flo-uing wave, thou blessed Galilee ? 
The mountain shadows from thy breast that chase the simset 

rays 
Seem sacred as the veil which hid the bright shekina blaze, 
And every feath'ry palm whose plumes before thy breezes nod, 
And cj'press grove and cedar bough tell of the Son of God. 
Thy verdant banks in beauty still their lowly lilies wear — 
The lilies a Eedeemer plucked — than earthly pomp more rare ; 
And many a grassy hill around where evening dews are spread, 
Once canopied by angels, forms a pillow for His head; 
And mountain top and valley green shall stand forever dear, 
Where rung his silver accent, where fell his pitying tear, 
There Tabor's snowy brow reveals the brightness where he trod, 
When as a diadem she wore the glory of her God ; 
And distant olives — peaceful groves — embalm the evening air. 
As floats adown long centuries, the incense of His prayer. 
Thou chosen lakelet of my Lord, would I might gaze on thee 
In all thy holy beauty, thou more than favored sea ! 
Methinks thy waters echo still, and to their rocky bed 
Resound to His omnipotence, beneath His kingly tread. 
Thy conscious waters knew Him, and thy midnight's breeze 

adored, 
When pressed thy peaceful bosom the sandal of the Lord. 



64 SUNSET CLOUDS. 

And bright and holy is the light which o'er thy wave hath 
broke, 

Where parable and prophecy the tongue of Jesus spoke ! 

Thy banks seem hallowed altar-stones : thy sky a temple dome, 

Those gentle banks in beauty made my Saviour's lowly home; 

And though the Moslem's iron hand hath all thy beauty riven. 

Yet flashes in thy peaceful waves the radiance of heaven. 

Thy fallen spires shall rise again, and, behold, from each temple- 
dome 

Shall ring in glad hosannahs clear, " the Lord has come ! " 

Forever vocal is the spot, and sacred is the sod. 

Where, heralded by angels, moved the footsteps of a God. 




